


Uh... wet

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: “You brought condoms, right?” Adam mumbles, and Ronan rolls his eyes at him.“Obviously,” he says, “and lube. And your toothbrush. The essentials.”Another quick fic written on my phone (I can't focus on long fics while I'm traveling do I've been using my hours stuck in trains to fluff it up) this is set a few years after trk





	Uh... wet

“I'm just saying,” Ronan says that night, voice tinny and scratchy over Adam's phone speaker. 

 

his phone is perched precariously on the tiny kitchen counter so he can cook while talking to Ronan. Cooking is truly too generous a word for what he is currently doing, really; he’s putting together a sandwich. 

 

“You're never just saying,” Adam retorts, pauses to lick extra spread off of his knife, “you actually wanna do this?” 

 

“Don't you?” Ronan replies, “I think it'd be fun. I'd make us a playlist.” 

 

“That is not actually an incentive,” Adam snorts back, “when have I ever said anything that made you think I'd like to  _ roadtrip _ with you?” 

 

“So you don't want to?” Ronan presses, “Even if I made all the arrangements, and fit it into the long weekend, and bake those pretzels for you?”

 

Adam has to consider. The pretzels are a better incentive than the playlist, and actually, he did like Ronan's playlists. 

 

“You really wanna do this, huh?” He asks eventually, smushing the top bread of his sandwich down to keep it all together, “you wanna spend three days in a car with me napping while you complain about traffic? Would we sleep in the backseat? We already know it's too squishy for both of us.” 

 

“No, dipshit,” Ronan snorts, he sounds pleased, as if Adam's already agreed, which, Adam knows, he has. “You wouldn't wanna sleep ’cos I'd take you someplace awesome, and I promise not to complain about traffic, and we'd stay the night at, like, motels. It'd be fucking great, man.” 

 

“I seriously don't have to plan anything?” Adam asks, takes a huge bite of his sandwich and speaks through it, “and me not planning anything won't result in us getting irretrievably lost or like… arrested?” 

 

“Fuck off, ye of little faith,” Ronan says, sounding far happier than the words warrented. “I'll make it so fucking cool you'll shit yourself.” 

 

“Better pack wet wipes, then,” Adam offers. 

 

-

 

This is how Adam finds himself, just over two weeks later, in the passenger seat of Ronan's BMW, having been picked up after class to find his bag already packed and in the backseat. He has no idea where they were going. 

 

“North,” Ronan tells him when he asks for their destination, “ish.” 

 

Adam considers pushing, or grumping, but, Ronan is grinning at him, eyes all but sparkling, and he's  _ missed him so fucking much _ he doesn't want to ruin it by being a buzzkill. 

 

“Just tell me you've got a pit stop planned soon for a proper greeting seeing as I barely got to kiss you hello. And also that you packed my toothbrush.” 

 

“Yes and yes,” Ronan replies, “though you could just use mine. We swap spit enough.”

 

“Definitely not the same thing,” Adam retorts, “thank you for remembering it.” 

 

“I don't want any shit to go wrong,” Ronan says to the windshield, “there will be no chance for you to regret giving full control to me.” 

 

Adam snorts. 

 

“I mean it,” Ronan says, maybe seriously, “you can fucking trust me.” 

 

“I do,” Adam replies, very seriously, “chill out. I trust you. Take me wherever you want, I'm happy.” 

 

“Because you're here with me?” Ronan shoots at him, eyebrows raised. 

 

“Don't be a sap,” Adam snorts, then reaches over to tangle his fingers in the mess of Ronan's leather bracelets. “Yes.” 

 

-

 

They take a quick break just ten minutes out of town to reacquaint themselves with each other, and then Ronan drives them North. Ish. He plays music, chucks bags of chips at Adam, and takes his hand off the gearstick as often as possible to hold Adam's hand, or brush his arm. They talk about nothing in particular, mostly trash, until night is well and truly fallen. 

 

“What's the plan for tonight, then?” Adam asks, watching as a dark forest of buildings flick past in the dim distance. “We driving all night?” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, “an hour more at most. Motel coming up soon. And we'll pick a late dinner up too.”

 

“Thought this was our dinner?” Adam remarks, holding up the bag of sour gummies Ronan had shoved at his hand five minutes before. 

 

Ronan scoffs at him. “Please,” he says, “your uni nutrition is bad enough. I'm giving you actual fucking meals when you're with me.” 

 

“So what's on the menu tonight then, chef?” 

 

“Hot dogs and chips,” Ronan mumbles.

 

-

 

Adam doesn't see much of the motel. There's a small wood table they eat their dinner at, a trashcan with flowers on they get rid of the paper bags their dinner had come in. A clean bathroom with a shower with very good water pressure. A large bed with a burgundy duvet that they kick off of the bed because it's too hot. 

 

“You brought condoms, right?” Adam mumbles, and Ronan rolls his eyes at him. 

 

“Obviously,” he says, “and lube. And your toothbrush. The essentials.” 

 

-

 

The next day doesn’t start until the sun is up and bright in the sky, and Adam climbs into the driver's seat and follows Ronan’s directions, and they both sing along to the playlist, and Ronan throws M’n’Ms at Adam's mouth, and the road curves around a hill and reveals the ocean, and then curves away and curls them up around the hill until they're in the sky. 

 

Adam insists on stopping at the top and the both of them tumble out of the car and against each other to stand at the lookout looking at the blanket of sea until Adam turns to press himself more against Ronan, and then they just look at the insides of their eyelids and close ups of each other's faces for a while. Crazily, Ronan pulls his phone out to take photos; of Adam's kiss flushed face, of the view, of Adam silhouetted black against the white blue of the day, of the two of them tangled together against the same view. 

 

They stop again at the base of the hill, Adam following Ronan's directions onto a spindly road that drops off into sand and trees; a tiny cove, protected from wind by the hills, and from people by the terrible condition of the road. 

 

-

 

“Yes, Parrish, I packed your fucking togs,” Ronan tells him. 

 

Adam goes to fetch the togs. He holds then up in front of Ronan for inspection. 

 

“These are not my togs,” he says, which he knows Ronan already knows. 

 

Ronan does not bother looking confused. He looks up from his own bag. 

 

“Your old ones didn't fit you anymore,” he says, unabashed, “and as much as I like seeing all of your ass and such a good outline of your dick, I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate strangers seeing the same view.” 

 

“So you just bought me new ones,” Adam says, “without asking.” 

 

“Hell, Parrish,” Ronan sighs, slinging a brightly patterned cloth bag over his shoulder, “just say thanks. If you hate it so much you can swim nude and buy new ones in the next town.” 

 

Adam sighs and Ronan slams the boot shut and stomps off towards a very derelict looking possible public toilet, ostensibly to get changed, possibly to see if it even has a bathroom still in it. He swallows his stupid pride and follows after Ronan. 

 

The possible public toilet turns out to just be a hollow concrete block with a door and rusty coat hooks on the wall. Ronan is standing with his back to the door, which he'd left open (or was stuck open), shirt already off, hands working at his belt buckle. 

 

“Sorry,” Adam says, “I do appreciate it. It's either cute or creepy that you know my wardrobe well enough to know what needs replacing.” 

 

Ronan shrugs and drops his pants, undies and all, and steps into his togs. 

 

“Die mad about it,” he grumbles, without feeling. 

 

Adam snorts at him, and crosses the floor (more sand and leaves than concrete), and wraps his arms around Ronan's bare hips. 

 

“Do they say  _ juicy _ on the butt?” He asks, presses a kiss to Ronan's nape. 

 

“They should,” Ronan says, reaching around himself to grab at Adam to pull him closer against his back, “I'm sorry I didn't ask.” 

 

“It's fine,” Adam decides, “have you been worrying about my reaction to them the whole time?” 

 

Ronan shrugs again, turns in Adam's arms so they're stomach to stomach, and tips his head down to kiss Adam before saying; “only from when we saw the sea.” 

 

Adam kisses him again. He gets changed into the new togs, Ronan sucks a bright red hickey into his neck, and then slathers him with sunscreen. Adam returns the favour, and then they go back out into the bright day, which is a lot hotter after spending quarter of an hour in a shadowed concrete block. 

 

The cove is empty, but the horizon is full of sails, so it remains a possibility that they could be joined. The beach itself is a little more shelly than sandy, but Ronan's brought thick beach towels. 

They spread themselves out on them to sunbathe and heat up to unbearable before swimming, and Ronan reaches out to drag his fingers between freckles on Adam's ribs. 

 

-

 

“I didn't think it'd be hot enough to swim,” Adam says, arm thrown over his face to block the sun, “but I think my marrow is melting.” 

 

“The sea might still be freezing,” Ronan offers, draws a straight line from Adam's belly button to his clavicle with his finger, “but that’d definitely fix the melty marrow problem.” 

 

“wanna go swim, then?” Adam asks, “Think there'll be crabs?” 

 

“Yes to both,” Ronan says, “I want you to carry me.” 

 

“Baby,” Adam snorts, but rolls over, dislodging Ronan's wandering hand, and shifts onto his knees before prodding at Ronan's side. “C'mon then,” he says, “am I chucking you in?” 

 

“Better not be,”  Ronan says, sitting and wrapping his arms around Adam's neck, skin burning against Adam's. 

 

Adam half walks, half staggers the both of them over to the water, Ronan clinging to him, hissing when the water splashes up against Adam's legs and hits his bare thighs. 

 

“Nope,” Ronan says, clinging all the more to Adam, feet digging in against the back of Adam's thighs, “too cold. Take me back to the towels. I'd rather melt.” 

 

“Ah,” Adam says, “unfortunate,” he adds, and pitches himself straight forward into the water. 

 

Ronan is loud enough that the far off sail boats are probably calling the police. They wrestle a moment in the breaking waves, sandy and dripping wet, and then Ronan drags him further out to dunk him properly and Adam spits water in his face before dunking him back. They play fight until it's too exhausting and all they're really doing is clinging to each other and bobbing up and down in the waves. 

 

“No crabs so far,” Adam says. 

 

“So far,” Ronan agrees ominously, “let's go back and dry off.” 

 

They wade back out, drop stomach down onto their towels. Ronan drags Adam's hand into the small moat of sand between their towels and threads their fingers together, sand grinding between them. Adam closes his eyes and opens then again to the view of Ronan taking more photos. He raises his eyebrows at the camera and rolls into his side. 

 

“I've seen you with your phone more often today than I have in the last year,” he says. Ronan takes another photo of him as he speaks. 

 

“Yeah well,” Ronan says, “it’s camera is easy to use.” 

 

“Why so many photos?” 

 

“It's a road trip,” Ronan says, as it that was an answer itself. 

 

Adam rolls his eyes, then shuffles over on his side until he's pressed sandily against Ronan's side, presses his face in against the side of his neck.

 

“Ok then,” he says, “go on then, take this photo.” 

 

Ronan takes the photo. Then he takes a few more while Adam gives him another hickey so that his neck will be symmetrical. It's very salty. A lot of the photos end up blurry. 

 

-

 

Ronan drives again afterwards. They stay mostly on the coast, diverting off it every so often to wind up a hill to get out and stretch legs in the sky, and they stop for lunch in a town that's barely big enough for the small supermarket it boasts. 

 

They eat at the one cafe in town - 'something something family Cafe’. Ronan orders a fish burger and fries and Adam orders a chicken salad and a fresh juice and gives Ronan the look which says very clearly that he's paying. Then they sit at a small table by the window and Ronan kicks off his jandals and sticks his toes up the cuffs of Adam's jeans until Adam kicks him in the shins. 

 

The food is pretty good. Adam takes a photo of Ronan with half the burger in his mouth, Ronan somehow persuades Adam to stick fries up his nose and have his photo taken as well. Ronan drinks most of Adam's juice so they order more to go while Adam pays, and Ronan kisses him tasting like peach and apple. 

 

-

 

Ronan drives until dusk, and they pause to buy sushi, and then they drive a little more until Ronan pulls up at a series of signs boasting natural hot springs. 

 

“Here's what you really need the togs for,” Ronan tells him once they're parked, “you get bigger in the heat, and if you got any fucking bigger in those old togs they'd split.” 

 

Adam snorts. 

 

“They have a dessert bar here,” Ronan says, opening the car door and swinging his legs out, “let's go be decadent and then make out in the sauna.” 

 

“So they put on the dinner and we put on the show?” Adam says, following Ronan out to the boot, “you just wanna make a stir.” 

 

“In your pants,” Ronan agrees, grabs the cloth bag again, “we can be as discrete as you like.” 

 

-

 

Adam purposefully doesn't look at the prices as they go in. He'd paid for dinner as well and Ronan had informed him that that meant that dessert was on him and no complaining, so he doesn't want to know the damage. 

 

They don't make out in the sauna, mostly because it's too hot and Adam thinks he'd probably faint. They stay in the hot pools drinking mocktails until they're ridiculously wrinkly and Ronan can't hack Adam's hand rubbing his thigh without going any higher any longer. 

 

-

 

Ronan drives them to another motel. This one has a bigger bathroom, with pitiful water pressure in the shower, and a  slightly smaller bed, but it's a great mattress, and the bed frame doesn't squeak at all. 

 

After they've tested the bed out, they lie in the dark room, Adam's fingers tracing Ronan's tattoo by memory. 

 

“This is really nice,” he says into the dark.

 

“Told you it would be,” Ronan replies, then, “I'm glad you're having fun.” 

 

“You are too, right?” 

 

“Do you really need to ask?”

 

“No,” Adam laughs, “roll over and kiss me more before I fall asleep.” 

 

-

 

It's raining on Saturday morning and Ronan stares gloomily out the motel window, but they climb back into the BMW anyway, window wipers on. 

 

“What's the plan today?” Adam asks, “skinny dipping in the rain?” 

 

“Believe it or not, I didn't plan this particular rain,” Ronan says dryly, “and neither did the weather app on my phone.” 

 

“Technology,” Adam says with faux dismissal, “does the rain ruin your plans, then?” 

 

“They do if you're not keen on hiking in the rain,” Ronan says to the rain splattered windscreen. 

 

“Not amazingly keen,” Adam admits, “maybe it'll clear up before we get there?” 

 

“Maybe,” Ronan allows, “if not we'll just get to tonight's place earlier than expected.” 

 

“A slow day is fine,” Adam says. 

 

-

 

It's absolutely still raining by the time they reach the hiking spot Ronan had been aiming for. They park there anyway and Ronan grabs them scroggin from a bag in the boot and they throw yogurt nuts at each other, and Adam eats all the raisins because Ronan hates them and only put them in for Adam. 

 

“Y'know,” Adam says, “the backseat isn't that squishy.” 

 

“Last time you got cramp in your back,” Ronan points out. 

 

“last time I'd spent all day under the car and was stiff as a board,” Adam points out back, “‘course, we don't have to if you don't wanna.” 

 

“Don't be an idiot,” Ronan grins at him, “what's more romantic than fucking in the backseat during a rainstorm?” 

 

-

 

They still get to that evening's destination earlier than intended, (even after stopping to eat a huge lunch at a diner that said it had the best Ratatouille) but not as early as initially expected. Ronan drives them through several towns, then stops, in a remarkably innocuous town, outside a supermarket and announces that they need to go shopping. So they go shopping. 

 

-

 

To an untrained eye, Ronan's movements through the supermarket probably appear random. To Adam, who is about as trained on Ronan Lynch as it's possible to get, his movements were still pretty random, but he knew it was more because Ronan shopped for fun than practicality, even when shopping for practicality, and he was used to the zig zag of their progress. Usually though, he knew what they had come to get, so he could grab stuff as well, or put more useless stuff back on the shelves. Today he had no idea what Ronan's plans were, so he couldn't even say for sure if the raspberry bubble bath was only in the trolley because Ronan liked its packaging, or if it has meaning. 

 

Ronan grabs a wide variety of things in today's shop. Moscato, three types of ice cream, croissants (plain and chocolate), cannelloni tubes, cottage cheese, spinach, mini doughnuts, aforementioned bubble bath, peanut butter, eggs, matches, two lightbulbs, sunglasses, more condoms, and too much more. 

 

-

 

“Want anything else?” Ronan asks as theyhead towards the checkout, and Adam laughs at him. 

 

Only after they've unpacked the groceries into the car does Adam let Ronan persuade him into the cart to be crashed into the rows of other trolleys. They climb back into the car wet, bruised, and laughing.

 

-

 

It's half an hour later that Ronan slows the car again, and the sea, never too far, is suddenly beside them again. 

 

“So we are skinny dipping in the rain?” Adam asks as they slow to a crawl. 

 

“If you want,” Ronan says with a grin, “but I'm currently just looking for our turn off.”

 

Their turn off is a tiny road marked by a tin letterbox and a faded sign. At the end of the road is a small cottage, and, the sea spread out all around them. 

 

“It's private property,” Ronan says as he parks, headlights shining through rain on the pale front of the cottage, the wet front steps, “so you  _ can _ skinny dip safely.”

 

“Whose private property?” Adam asks. 

 

“Ours for tonight,” Ronan says, “it belongs to some old lady called Glennis, she rents it out. Technically we actually have it the whole weekend because she doesn't do overnight rentals.” 

 

“Huh,” Adam says, “are we gonna go in, then, or are we just gonna look at it?”

 

“Dick ass,” Ronan comments, “come on then, grab the lightbulbs, will you? She said the kitchen lights were out.” 

 

-

 

The cottage is simply decorated, pale walls with a few paintings hanging on then, varnished wooden furniture that matches the hardwood floors. The most extravagant parts of it was the sea, the AC, huge windows, and the second bathroom that was actually just a huge bath with jets. 

 

“Bubble bath,” Adam says as they stand in the  _ bath _ room doorway, “I see.” 

 

“You wanna go skinny dipping?” Ronan asks, chin digging into Adam's shoulder. 

 

“Let's get our stuff in first,” Adam says, “so that once we're freezing and grumpy we can get changed easy.” 

 

“So wise,” Ronan says, “come on then, we could even put our towels on the towel rack and dry off with heated towels.” 

 

-

 

It's still light enough to see as they pick their way down the wet beach, but the clouds are blocking the early evening light just enough that despite the warm air, the sea looks dark and cold. 

 

“You wanna do this?” Adam asks skeptically, tossing a sideways glance at Ronan, “it's looking pretty, uh, wet.”

 

“It's the sea,” Ronan snorts, “that's what it's meant to look like.” He's already dragging his sopping t-shirt off, dropping it onto a handy driftwood log. 

 

“You're a maniac,” Adam tells him, but follows suit. 

 

Ronan peels his pants off, and then stands there naked, arms around himself while Adam finishes undressing, then wraps his arms around him instead. They're already so wet they may as well be in the sea. Ronan is slick and warm against him, and when they kiss, still standing together at the edge of the water, rain water drips from Ronan's face onto Adam's. 

 

“C'mon, then,” Adam mumbles against Ronan's cheek, “before I chicken out or become sensible.” 

 

“If it wasn't raining right now I'd be taking photos,” Ronan says, “you look so fucking good in this light.”

 

They edge hesitantly into the water, hand in hand, swearing raucously at the chill of the water, and at the seaweed wrapping around Ronan's ankle, but continuing to move forwards anyway. Once they're comfortable in the water, Adam dunks Ronan. 

 

-

 

Back inside they run the ridiculously large bath, and pour in too much bubble bath, and Ronan insists they eat the chocolate croissants in it. Adam agrees because he's hungry enough that he can't bring himself to care if he gets covered in soggy pastry flakes. Ronan takes photos and almost drops the phone in the bath. The phone gets sent to time out in the hallway. 

 

-

 

“I'm gonna make cannelloni for dinner,” Ronan announces, eyes closed. He's leaning back against Adam while Adam fashions a foam decoration on his head. “You can, I dunno, check your homework or some shit while I cook.” 

 

“You don't want me to help?” Adam asks, adds more spikes to his creation. 

 

“Nope,” Ronan says, “too many cooks spoil the broth.” 

 

“Well am I allowed to hang out in the kitchen with you?” Adam tries, trails his hands down from Ronan's head, over his shoulders, to Ronan's chest, “I wanna be with you.” 

 

“God,” Ronan snorts, “well how am I supposed to say no to that?”

 

“You're not meant to,” Adam says, “I will fuck off if you want, though.” 

 

“I don't,” Ronan says, “but no helping.” 

 

-

 

The cannelloni is very good. So is the ice cream. All three kinds in one bowl. 

 

“I was gonna suggest we stargaze,” Ronan says as they finish dessert, “but it's still raining. We'll just have to have the Moscato inside.” 

 

“I wasn't aware Moscato was meant to be drunk outside,” Adam says, “let's drink it in bed.” 

 

-

 

Between the alcohol and the effects of the bubble bath, Adam falls asleep possibly too early in the game, and when he wakes up, Ronan isn't in bed with him. 

 

It isn't hard to find him. The cottage is small enough that hiding a full sized person is all but impossible. He's standing in the doorway, limned by rain, phone hanging limply in his hand by his side. Ass naked. 

 

“Hey,” Adam says, shuffling up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist before hooking his chin over Ronan's shoulder, “you trying to intimidate the rain into stopping?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan grunts, “why're you awake already?”

 

“You weren't there,” Adam says, “why are  _ you _ awake so early?” 

 

“Woke up mad about the rain,” Ronan mumbles, “couldn't get back to sleep.”

 

“You're the only person I know who gets so personally offended by weather,” Adam says, closing his eyes, “what plans are the rain ruining now?”

 

“Well,” Ronan says. He sounds very irritated. “All of them currently because the roads are flooded. Who built this town, I'd like to know, to make it so easily floodable? We're by the sea. Surely they should have given more thought to  _ water _ .”

 

“Oh,” Adam says. He keeps his eyes shut so he can think. “Well. That sucks, but, you did just say we have this place for the whole weekend, so it's not like we're suddenly stranded in a flood. It's a great place, too, so -”

 

“That's not the point,” Ronan interrupts. He still sounds irritated, but the kind of irritation which is just a flimsy raincoat for something else. “The point was I was supposed to make this so fucking good for you. The point was that nothing was going to fuck up, or go off track like it always does with me. The point was -” he trails off here, shrugging his shoulders so that Adam loosens his grip a little, and then he turns to hug Adam properly. 

 

“You're being stupid,” Adam says firmly, “like, I get it, but God, baby, so dumb. This isn't your fault. This has been so fucking good. I've loved all of it. I don't give a flying shit when things go off track because we always find a better track.” 

 

Ronan sniffs against Adam's shoulder. Knowing Ronan and his love of all things dramatic, it would make more sense for it to have been for show, but it sounded intensely real. Also a little snotty. 

 

“I want to marry you,” Ronan says then, voice a little thick, and for a moment Adam doesn't quite feel the weight Ronan has put on the words. 

 

“What,” he snorts, “for pointing out that you don't control the weather and that I enjoy spending time with you?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, but he doesn't say it like 'yeah’, he says it like  _ yeah _ . 

 

“Wait,” Adam says, “what?” 

 

Ronan is still pressed tightly against him, fingers pressing into Adam's bare back. 

 

“I was going to propose on the hike,” he says, “if we weren't too grumpy. There's a waterfall. I was gonna propose there. My back up plan was under the stars last night, but I just - fuck. I wanted it to be be perfect. I didn't want to do it in the rain. And then - I thought maybe this morning if it was sunny, or tomorrow at a botanical garden, but now it's still raining and we're stuck here and I can't do perfect and I was standing here freaking out that if I didn't just  _ do _ it now I'd never do it because I'd keeping thinking the situation wasn't just right and -”

 

Adam was in two minds. On one hand he wanted to listen to Ronan ramble on about all the different ways he wanted to propose, and how much he'd been thinking about it, and on the other hand, he wanted to put Ronan out of his very apparent misery as quickly as possible. He kisses him, a very useful little full stop in Ronan's monologue, and when he pulls back, pushing them apart enough so that he could see Ronan's face, Ronan doesn't make to speak again.

 

“Ok,” he says, “we're not getting married until I'm graduated all properly and shit, but that's not too long away now. That's a respectable amount of time for an engagement.” 

 

Ronan just looks at him. 

 

“Do you have a ring?” Adam asks, “because if you do, you could grab it and go down on one knee if that would make you feel better.” 

 

“I have a ring,” Ronan says. 

 

“I want to see it,” Adam says, “show me.” 

 

Ronan fumbles to grab Adam's hand, then leads him back into the bedroom. He leaves Adam by the foot of the bed and crouches by his bag to pull out a small velvet bag. Standing up, he steps back over to Adam, and tips it out over Adam's outstretched palm. 

 

Two rings fall into his hand. It's immediately obvious that they're dream things because at first glance they appear to be woven together. A second look shows that they are separate. Intricate strands of metal braided into a ring, small leaf like jewels glinting in crevices. As he looks, he can almost see them weaving themselves back together. It's obvious they were made together, and want to stay together. 

 

“Which is mine?”

 

Ronan plucks one from Adam's palm, it's smaller than the other, the glinting jewels a little darker. Adam closes his hand around Ronan's ring, and lifts his other hand for Ronan to put the ring on him. It fits easily, obviously, it is one of Ronan's dreams and Ronan has always loved Adam's hands. Once it’s on, Adam caught Ronan's hand before it could retreat, and slides the other ring onto Ronan's hand. 

 

“That's a yes, then?” Ronan asks. 

 

“I already said yes,” Adam points out. 

 

“You said  _ ok _ , which isn't the same thing,” Ronan says. 

“Yes.” Adam says firmly. “Yes I will marry you. Yes. I want to marry you. Yes. I love the rings. Yes. This is not how you wanted to do it, but I still love it, because I love you and you love me and we always fucking make it work.” 

 

“I love you,” Ronan says, “so fucking much.” 

 

“By a waterfall?” Adam asks. 

 

“Yes. I had a cheesy ass speech as well.” 

 

“I want to hear it,” Adam says, pulling Ronan by the hand until they're pressed chest to chest, and then tugging the both of them down onto the bed. 

 

“It's too cheesy without a waterfall around,” Ronan protests, falling easily with Adam. 

 

Adam considers. “Next time,” he says, “next time there's a waterfall, you have to propose to me again with the cheesy speech.” 

 

Now Ronan looks to be considering. “Ok,” he says, “if we're in public you've got to like, cry. And throw yourself at me.” 

 

Adam laughs. “Ok,” he says. 

 

“I'll go down on my knees now, if you want,” Ronan says then. 

 

-

 

“I was thinking,” Ronan says, at a more respectable hour, the two of them in the kitchen toasting croissants and frying eggs, “you should buy the wedding rings. So we have our dreams and our more… practical… lives together.” 

 

“Now that's the epitome of romance,” Adam says, cracking another egg into the sizzling pan, “hey, are you taking more photos? My whole fucking ass is out.” 

 

“We need photos for our engagement announcement!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilegarden.tumblr.com


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